Remedies and solutions are not mine to behold,
in this desert of time, where one too quickly grows old,
As to a passing wind is a motionless scene,
so am I to time, nothing do I mean.

And who am I to ask the whens or whys of this world,
I'd neither add nor take if I was ever told,
we're all shooting stars and sometimes we're not even seen.
we're neither earth nor air we're something in between

do we exist? for certain yes we do,
but how or why, I haven't got a clue,
I'm not gonna answer life's questions anymore,
survival is more impending and knocking at my door.

As a bystander I was born and a bystander I stay,
Seeing of life's movie a single still portrait,
not enough to understand the way things come in play,
but not little enough so as to look the other way.